I sat down at the keyboard with my lovely steaming hot cup of aromatic coffee this morning and listened to the birds sing...for a split second...and then...whooo hoooooo.... My husband, a staunchly unapologetic fan of 80's music, had cranked Pandora in the bathroom. Michael Jackson was ruining the the birds' serenade that I've eagerly waited the last 24 hours for.
The hormones that made me inhale six mini M&M packets before bed the other night had me burst into tears like a big baby. The little mom voice in my head warned good thing no one can hear you. This is really immature, Julie. Pull yourself together. WWAMD? What would adult me do?
I went to get earplugs. Really? Earplugs? I don't want to stick these things in my ears! I want to hear the birds! *sob*
"Babe...can you please turn that down?...BABE? DOES THAT HAVE TO BE SO LOUD? BABE! IT'S REALLY GRATING ON MY NERVES!" *sob*
"Oh..sure Babydoll, just a minute."
Settling back in my chair I heard another squawk and held my breath to listen. Not a bird. Not me, either. It was the real baby this time. The one that wants to be held for an hour after she wakes every morning. The one who spills my lovely steaming hot aromatic coffee because she wants a sip just like mama. And pushes buttons and puts the computer in sleep mode while I'm typing.
*sob*
I cannot be upset or disappointed. One look at this beautiful little face melts my heart. And do do da babababa is ultimately more melodic than any bird tune. Her hair smells like fresh sun-kissed laundry, and one morning she will wake and not want to snuggle in my lap. These moments are more precious than gold.
So often when I have a little corner of my day hollowed out and a certain plan on how to enjoy it, nothing goes as I hoped. I firmly believe that it's God molding me as clay on the potter's wheel. As disappointed as I feel at times, in retrospect I've realized the moments that are the most precious to me are those that cannot be planned. It's all part of the bigger picture of life. And if you've wondered what all this blabbering has to do with the scale...well, that's pretty much it. Nothing new from what I've said in the past, just a more dramatic presentation of it to mask the fact that...I've got nothing else inspirational to offer.
My favorite time of year is upon us. And when I wrote favorite at first it came out favotire. Whether it was an honest typo flip or a subconscious anagram, it was appropriate. Favorite but tiring. My only saving grace this week was how busy this time of year is. We've been outside the majority of the time when it's not raining. We got half the garden planted. I got most of the back yard raked and a good 60 ft. stretch of the creek banks cleared of saplings, sticks, leaves, and debris. I pulled out two dead honeysuckle bushes and restacked our woodpile. I cleared the dead growth and leaves from beds. I'm in the process of raking all the rocks out of the beds surrounding the house so I can put in wild flowers and an herb garden.
Yesterday we had our last nature study for the academic year at a local nature preserve. Looking back, I can't believe I took five kids to this by myself. Ian is the child that is totally okay with running ahead out of sight...exhilarated by being "lost", running 100 miles an hour down these treacherous steps carved into decaying woodland, and is completely fine with adopting himself out to strange random families who are also traversing the trails. This was my treadmill:
And I am totally not in as good of shape as I thought I was! My knees are screaming at me today. But we made it home with all five still accounted for, and no broken bones.
I have not resumed tracking calories in my food journal. After a two week hiatus from the scale and almost completely abandoning calorie restriction, I hopped on today to find four extra pounds. It's not as bad as I had feared. I'm considering this last five week stretch my "treading water" break. I have every good intention of dragging both feet back on the wagon next week.
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